Push
by SmexyScrapbooker
Summary: You've been dancing around each other for months. All he needs is a little...push. DeanXReader.


**A/N: Hey Everyone! Hope you like this first little drabble that popped into my head. All rights belong to their owners, yada yada, and Dean's sexiness is all thanks to Jensen Ackles. Enjoy!**

You thought that today was going to be an okay day when you rolled out of bed this morning. You'd even allowed yourself time to stretch, crack your back, and then take a shower before meandering down the twisting hallways of the MOL bunker. Your room was far enough away from the boys' that they couldn't hear you singing in the shower (something you loved, but would _vehemently_ deny if anyone asked).

"Hey," Dean greeted you as you slipped into your usual seat and dug into the grease-soaked bag for your breakfast. "Nice hair. Dreaming about me, were you?"

You fix him with a death glare and dig in to your breakfast, only throwing your curly hair up into a ponytail after a sufficient amount of time has passed. You're a badass after all, and Dean doesn't need to know that he makes you feel self-conscious. You two have been dancing around each other for months and you're just waiting for him to make a move. Baby steps. "So what're we doing today?" you ask after inhaling half your breakfast.

Sam, as usual, has his nose in his laptop. "Not sure. I'm trying to track that group of demons, but I'm not seeing any new towns with dead livestock or anything suspicious."

"Hey, maybe you can pop on down and sniff around," Dean grins at you, knowing exactly how to push all the wrong buttons. God, if he would just push the right ones…

You roll your eyes instead of making good on any of the fourteen ways you'd like to murder him sometimes. "I'm the child of a demon, idiot. Fully human. I can't just waltz on down to Hell and poke around. Why don't you just call your boyfriend. Have him go fetch your demons."

"We don't want to tip him off in case he has something to do with this," Dean says darkly, annoyed that you're calling Crowley his boyfriend. "And you're not _completely_ human."

You stand up and flip him off in response, that small movement sending a book from one of the bookshelves hurtling his way. Dean easily dodges it, used to this routine, but Sam's coffee isn't so lucky. "Really guys?" he whines as his favorite cup of the week shatters on the ground. "Do you ever get tired of that?"

You let your face relax into a small smirk and flip a grinning Dean off one more time. "Nope." You hear the second book whack him in the head a moment later as you stroll off."

"Son of a bitch!"

Alone in your room once more, you surround yourself with your favorite guns and begin to clean them again. You could have dropped them off for Dean to clean, but something about the repetitive motion calms you today. It annoys you that Dean still looks at you with the tiniest amount of distrust. You can't help having a demon mom. You can't help being what you are. But underneath the labels and the hardass exterior, you're still a woman, and he's still a man, and you want him. All the little comments, the subtle glances, they're all getting on your nerves, and you know he's just waging an internal battle about throwing you down and fucking you.

"Knock, knock." He's standing there in the doorway, watching you absently run a cloth over the barrel of your gun and he gives you his most sheepish face when he sees you jump. "Whoa there, darlin."

"Wear a bell next time," you mutter.

His eyes light up at the joke possibilities, but instead he says, "Sam has something. We're heading out in 10." He hesitates. "Want to come?"

You raise an eyebrow. "You don't want me to go?"

"No, it's just that last time-I mean I don't know if we'll be up against another Push." That's what he calls you demon kids that can telekinetically move objects. He got it from some stupid movie from his collection, and refuses to change it.

"I doubt it. But I'm sure I can make myself useful anyway." You try not to sound bitter. Really. But you're tired of Dean only taking you into battle when he thinks you're useful. As if he and Sam don't _always_ need a woman around, cleaning wounds and sewing gashes.

He shrugs and grins at you. "Okay. I just don't want you to get hurt. We good?" You nod without looking up from your gun and he calls your name to get your attention. "Seriously. Uh, You know it's not you, right?" He's rubbing his neck now, so you take pity on him and nod. "Ever since Char-" he stops.

You know the story. He's afraid to get close to anyone since Charlie died. And he blames Sam. You know this because Sam had a heart to heart with you one night after Dean called you "Demon spawn" in a fit of rage. "It's fine," you say, with as much warmth as you can. You stand, gathering your three favorite guns and tucking one into your waistband. "I've got your back, Dean." You two are chest to chest, squished into the doorframe when you get bold and wink at him. "Besides, I know you're just trying to resist me, human man."

You expect shock, disgust, really every other emotion other than the slight embarrassment and the…desire? you see there. His hands are on your waist in a moment and he swallows hard, knowing he doesn't have the time. Still, it's not like him to waste an opportunity and before you know it, his mouth is on yours and you're forgetting basic things…like how to breath. His lips are dangerous, taking everything from you and giving everything back. Well, everything you two are willing to give. He's like sin, and his chest is crushing you back into the doorframe. His tongue is dominating yours and you feel desire shooting through you, straight to your toes. You moan, and he breaks the kiss, stepping back and bumping into the doorframe.

You both clear your throats awkwardly and hurry back to Sam. Back to safety. Back to duty.

And that duty hurts like a bitch. Not five hours later and you're really regretting going on this mission. Sam's out cold with a steady-flowing gash on his head, Dean's tied up with a split lip, and you're covered in scrapes and bruises as you go toe to toe with the last demon. The boys took down five before they were contained and you know it's up to you to get past this last one.

You feel the push only a millisecond before the chunk of debris is flying at your face. You push back, throwing your hands out in front of you and stepping back, twisting your knee as you fall over a dead demon. The demon in front of you laughs, thinking he's bested you as you furiously try to wipe your eyes to get some of the blood and dirty out.

"Give it up, reject," the demon laughs, stalking toward you with all the cocky bravado you loath in your mother's kind. You see Sam's knife on the other side of the room at the same moment as the demon, and it's a damn battle to the push as you both go for the knife.

The blade flies past you, but you've overshot it, and it slices through your cheek before you can slow it down. Doesn't matter though, because the demon is bearing down on you, the blood is dripping down your neck, igniting adrenaline, and the next thing you know, you give one last push and the knife is buried up to the hilt in demon filth. It's like he's being electrocuted, and you can practically feel the heat before his body hits the floor and you're sagging back against the ground.

You stare up at the ceiling of the warehouse, giving yourself five seconds to watch the dust settle before you heave yourself up and tend to the boys. Dean has managed to work himself free and so you try to give Sam the gentlest of pushes to nudge him back to consciousness. He blinks up at you and groans.

"Uh huh," you say tiredly. "You can complain in the car." Your head is killing you and all you want to do is go back to the bunker and die in a hot bathtub.

Dean reaches out and touches your arm anxiously. "You okay?"

His voice is deep, probably from the pain and the split lip, but it still turns you on and you try to avoid his eyes. "Yeah." Memories of that kiss are suddenly making you feel all tingly inside.

He smirks at you. "Good. I didn't want to have to carry you."

You look up and notice that he's staring appraisingly at the new gash across your face and you try to lighten the severity by rolling your eyes. "Psh. You owe me like five piggy back rides by now."

He shrugs. "Add it to my bill."

The ride back to the bunker is quiet and you catch Dean glancing at you in the backseat several times before you give up trying to stay awake and fall asleep. In true Winchester fashion, four hours later, you're being nudged awake. Still in battle mode, you grip your gun and jerk yourself up, but it's just Dean, raising his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, Tex. Don't shoot. We're home."

You make it to your room without help, cursing your luck that Castiel is off on his own mission and won't be back for a few more days. He'd better be able to heal this new cut, or you're going to risk looking like half the Joker. After a touch and go shower, you pull on your comfiest shorts and your softest T-shirt and try to avoid looking in the mirror.

There's a knock on your door and you curse yourself for not putting a bra on. You open the door and cross your arms over your check. Yeah, that was subtle. Good job.

"Thought you might want some," Dean says lamely as he hands you a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. "You drink that, and I'll work on your face."

You shake your head stubbornly. "Cas will be back soon. It can wait."

He sees through your little attempt at bravery way too easily. "Maybe, but that cut needs to be kept together in the meantime. We don't want it to get infected and then Cas gets sidetracked and you get sick and die." He bats his eyelashes at you. "I'd blame myself."

"You should," you bite back, barely able to keep the grin off your face. It's probably possible only because it hurts to move your cheek.

"So…you gonna let me in?"

He's asking so much more with that questions, but you let him through, anxiously categorizing your room again, trying to see what he sees. You've allowed yourself to nest a bit, and you've made your room about as girly as you can stand. There's one pink photo frame on your dresser, and your sheets are minty green. For you, that's super girly.

And then there's Dean, currently sitting on said minty green sheets, looking up at you expectantly while you're standing there in short shorts, no bra, and a gash across your face. Ugh. The things that get hunters excited are just plain weird.

He works on you in silence and you close your eyes to avoid making eye contact. It's too much, he's too close, and all you want to do is close that small distance and kiss him again. But your cheek hurts and he's piecing you back together with dental floss, so you settle for guzzling some more whiskey and trying to calm your heart.

"Done," he finally whispers, but he doesn't let go of your face. You open your eyes to find him so close, so deliciously close, and he's looking at you like you have all the answers in the world.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at his gorgeous eyes, you suck in your breath and press your lips to his, bracing yourself in case he pushes you away.

He doesn't. He pulls you closer. His mouth slants across yours, fingers carding into your hair, pulling you closer still. You feel warm all the way through, and you know it has nothing to do with the whiskey as you open your mouth and his tongue slides against yours.

His fingers move from your hair to your neck, one hand falling down to your waist to pull you up against his chest and your arms twine around his body all by themselves. His lips are insistent, devouring yours in this blissful haze of heat and carnal pleasure. You both break apart for air and you reach for his shirt. He stops you and asks, "Are you sure?"

"I haven't been waiting for months or anything," you joke, but it comes out more breathy than you meant it to.

"Good," he says, pulling his shirt over his head and attacking your mouth once more. You barely notice that he's kissing you off-center, staying away from your sore cheek until you try to open your mouth further and the pain makes you wince. "What?" he asks, pulling back to look at you.

You shake your head. "Nothing. Just sore." Your eyes lock with his as you pull your shirt over your head and hear his breath catch when he sees you're not wearing a bra.

"Shit." In a moment, he's twined his arm around your waist and flipped you onto your back, settling in between your legs and they willingly part for him. You gasp as you feel the bulge in his jeans brush up against you through your flimsy shorts and he's right behind you, rocking his hips into yours with another curse.

Your hands are touching every inch of him they can as his mouth takes yours again. Cheeks, shoulders, down his back to his ass, everything lined in muscle. Everything finally yours. This anxious dance you two have been doing is finally over. Finally. Your fingers hook onto his belt loops and pull his hips down to yours, causing him to break your kiss with a groan as he reflexively grinds into you.

"Fuck. " He sucks in a breath. "Are you sure you want to do this now? We could wait until Cas is back."

You know he means waiting until Cas can heal you both, but you raise an eyebrow and ask, "Why? You want him to join?"

Dean grins, slowly and devilishly, deliberately grinding down into you and making you arch off the bed. "Nevermind. That level of sass? You're fine."

He starts to go for your mouth again, but you catch his face between your hands and look at him for a moment. "God, I've waited so long for you," you whisper, and you're ashamed to feel moisture prick your eyes.

Dean, never one for big speeches or deep sentiments, just looks back at you, the warmth in his gaze telling you everything he's not yet ready to admit. He leans in to kiss you again and your hands graze over the bulge in his pants. He's working his way down your neck, kissing and sucking before paying tribute to your breasts. You moan as he licks and sucks at your nipples and you restlessly shift your legs. That man's mouth is absolute magic, and no masturbating/imagining you've ever done has felt like this.

Your hands go for the buttons on his jeans and together, you shuck them off. You gulp as he pulls off his boxers, his thick cock ready. Another gush of moisture dampens your shorts and you start to sit up, start to reach for his cock but he pushes you back, shaking his head. "Later," he whispers, fingers already seeking your shorts and pulling them down. "Right now, I just want to feel you."

You don't even have time to be embarrassed about being naked before one long finger is pushing inside you and your head is falling back against the pillow. "Gh," she whimper, fists curling into the sheets as he pumps one, then two fingers in and out of you.

"Fuck baby," Dean groans, eyes fixed on his fingers. "You're so fucking wet already." He works you over, fingers pumping, thumb rubbing your clit until he feels your walls begin to flutter and then he pulls out, leaving you shaking and wanting. Automatically, you reach up to pull him closer and he hastily slips on a condom before settling on, chest to chest.

His arms encase your head, like he can protect you from the world, and his eyes are currently so clear, and so piercing that you feel like he's going to touch your soul. He takes a deep breath and says, "You know this means something, right?"

His voice is so deep, and you're so turned on, that you almost don't hear him. But you nod and whisper back, "Of course I do."

And that's all he needs to hear before his cock is at your entrance and he's guiding himself into you slowly. Oh so slowly. You both let out a sigh, you as you stretch to accommodate his size, and he as he drops his forehead to your shoulder. Your legs wrap around his waist after a moment, giving him to okay to move, giving him the power, and as he looks into your eyes, you know the gesture hasn't gone unnoticed. He's noticed everything. The way you let him be on top, the way you give him the control. Everything that is so different from your everyday persona.

He starts to move, and you see stars. He cock is throbbing, pulsing as he pushes into you, hitting every nerve ending and you feel like your insides are on fire. The pleasure starts to build as his hips move faster and faster, snapping against yours. You arch your head back and moan out his name over and over like a prayer and he buries his head into your shoulder, groaning out yours.

You feel your body tip over the edge, your orgasm stealing your breath away and causing your spine to snap tight, then tingle deliciously. Dean's rhythm stutters, but he doesn't stop, his hand twisting into your hair as he fucks you harder, pushing your body further into the mattress.

You start the build all over again as a second orgasm starts creeping up, faster than the first. Your nails carve down his back, slipping on the sweat and Dean hisses out, "Fuck, baby, come for me again. Shit you feel so fucking good, baby." The rest of his mumbling is muffled against your neck but he bites your shoulder and you lose it, your orgasm tearing the breath out of your lungs as you scream his name. "Dean!"

Somewhere, in the haze of falling through your orgasm, you manage to give Dean the one gift you've always wanted to give him. You push him. The push slams his hips down into yours, even as a second push pistons your hips up and against his cock and then he's choking out your name and coming, and coming, and coming, gasping your name.

He's sucking in a breath as his cock instinctively pumps once, twice, and then finally the aftershocks let him go, let him collapse and the roll the two of you so that you're resting on his chest. "Wha-what the hell was that?" he gasped out. "Did you push me?"

You grin up at him lazily as he discards the condom, then caresses your face and pushes the hair out of your eyes. "Always wanted to do that. It's good for something, isn't it?"

He laughs tiredly and pulls your minty green blanket up around the two of you. "Sorry it took me so long."

You shrug and snuggle closer. "Hazard of the job," you say quietly. You both stare into each other's eyes, knowing that the road ahead has just changed dramatically, and probably scares the hell out of both of you. No matter, you'll figure it out together. "Besides," you grin. "I think you just needed a little push."

He grins back, and three hours later, you're showing him exactly how great that little trick of yours really is. Demon spawn indeed.


End file.
